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Since I was sixteen, I’ve lived a life in glass — a life of clean cuts and sharp edges; of broken windows and shattered mirror; of blood spatter and stitches… Continue reading
It’s a matter of personal taste, I suppose, but the often overwrought and affected tone punctuated by flailing arm gestures and a lot of yelling . . . Continue reading
Opinion By Z. S. Roe Poetry is flourishing in the Waterloo Region … apparently. Do you believe it? Most wouldn’t. Truth be told, it’s hard to believe that poetry is flourishing anywhere, let alone here in Cambridge. Sure, some of us still read (and sometimes buy) the classics—Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Whitman, and the like—but few among … Continue reading
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